


Drop Dead Sprint

by captainkoirk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison is a CHAMP, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Isaac is a woodland creature turned Byronic Hero, M/M, POV Allison, Scott is a sandwich wizard, Scott makes a mean lasagna, Sloppy Makeouts, Smooshy Kissing & All-Consuming Icky Love, Team Brawn, brief mentions of David Bowie's Leather Pants, just some minor character development and a whole lotta feelings, minor spoilers for s03e4, no plot here, reading is sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:33:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainkoirk/pseuds/captainkoirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's bad blood between them, drying on her knives and under his claws. But Allison sees how Scott touches Isaac's shoulder, his elbow, his hip, and she stands closer, when Isaac has good days. She smiles at him and asks him to join her and Scott when they study, and she lets his long silences pass by.</p><p>Isaac's smile is a small, wry thing, but it makes Allison's chest go tight and funny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sometimes it hurts Allison to look at Scott, who's so ready to care, when he smiles. From his crooked, secret ones, just for her, to the blinding ones that cut through his face, bright and white, his laughter infectious. He burns so brightly in the dark, and some part of Allison wants to hide him and take his burden away, because he'd never asked for any of this. Allison doesn't cry, but she thinks about how fiercely he loves and fights and it makes the knot in her throat tighten, so brittle it threatens to snap.

 

Scott is a lover and a fighter, and even if it hurts to see him thrown into the open jaws of the nighttime, without a _choice,_ he was never given a _choice,_ Allison can't stop him from fighting, just as she could never make him stop loving. She knows she would resent him if he was always trying to keep her out of harm's way, so she does what her muscles remember, and tries to line up her fights with his.

 

Allison knows what it means to be used by the ones you were meant to trust, and she's been living the last year of her life reeling, always reeling, from death and betrayal, and sometimes she feels like she doesn't deserve his love and his fire, like she doesn't deserve him, but then she remembers that the world isn't fair, so.

 

Other parts of Allison's psyche know she deserves Scott, beyond any shadow of a doubt. He has always been a strong judge of character, somehow, despite never knowing who they can trust. He is discerning, Allison knows, but his arms are still always open the widest.

 

And so she trusts Isaac.

 

Sometimes she feels a hollow pang of jealousy when she sees him look Scott in the eyes when he smiles, sees him looking straight into the sun. Isaac burns, though, just like she does, and she remembers how unfair the world is, and she can't feel jealousy. Allison looks at Scott, Isaac looks at Scott, and Scott looks at both of them, with his myriad of looks, and Allison doesn't feel jealousy.

 

She could learn Isaac's pencil-sketch frame, she thinks.

 

There's bad blood between them, drying on her knives and under his claws. But Allison sees how Scott touches Isaac's shoulder, his elbow, his hip, and she stands closer, when Isaac has good days. She smiles at him and asks him to join her and Scott when they study, and she lets his long silences pass by.

 

She is learning. Isaac smiles crooked on the other side, his right eyebrow raised, his teeth hardly visible. He's still on the skinny side, for all his hard muscle, and when he sits to work with them, he occupies slivers of space with silent apologies. They're on Scott's sofa, textbooks spread out on the coffee table. Isaac works on his lap, knees up, head down. Scott has his legs stretched out on the table, sock feet dangling over the edge, running a hand through his hair. Allison sits in the middle, legs inclined so that her knees bump Scott's thigh, but she's twisted around a little, looking down at Isaac's paper. She sighs.

 

"I don't know how you do it, Isaac. I'm absolute crap at physics, at it doesn't help that _Harris_ is teaching it."

 

Isaac looks up at her, the corner of his mouth twitching, ready to curl into a sneer, if need be, but it doesn't.

 

"Don't say that!" Scott sounds almost _offended._ "Allison, you're not crap at anything you put your mind to."

 

Isaac casts Scott a look under his lashes, and it's so quick Allison almost misses it. It's always like that, though. Isaac steals his looks and touches, tucking them away, and Allison wishes he didn't feel like he had to. 

Allison nudges Scott with her knee, rolling her eyes in Isaac's direction and casting him a grin. "Obviously, Scott's never read any of my _poetry_."

 

Isaac's smile is a small, wry thing, but it makes Allison's chest go tight and funny.

 

It's getting late, and Scott asks if they want to stay for dinner, but Isaac peels himself off the sofa, unfolding.

 

"I probably have to go." He says, edging back towards the front door in a tight line, avoiding Scott's eyes, and Allison hates the thought of him not looking up, wondering when she could have ever felt jealous.

 

" _Probably._ " Allison insists, toeing the carpet. "But it would be nicer if you stayed, you know. Scott makes really good lasagna."

 

Allison can see Scott staring out of the corner of her eye, and he's looking at her with all his brightness and fierceness, and Allison wonders if this is how Isaac feels, too; like melting under Scott's kind eyes and strong hands.

 

Isaac stays, and Scott makes a baked pasta dish filled with four types of cheese and basil and oregano and tomato sauce and whatever vegetables he can get his hands on, and Allison remembers watching him make this after lacrosse practice, or running for hours in the woods, or a full moon. It makes her smile, and she sees Isaac stealing a look, elbow on the counter and hand on his cheek hiding the curve of his mouth. Allison sits next to him, watching Scott work, and their thighs touch. Isaac's leg jerks almost imperceptibly, but Allison looks at him steadily, wrapping a finger around a lock of her hair and lowering her lashes.

 

The three of them eat on counter stools, with Isaac in the middle, this time. Scott keeps meeting Allison's eyes over the top of Isaac's curls. Isaac is hunched over, shovelling the food into his mouth, and Scott is looking at Allison with hopeful questions, and for all Scott cares to please others, Allison knows Scott has her wrapped around his pinky finger.

 

Allison and Scott are watching the lacrosse team practice. Scott is occupied with his book, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully as he drinks in Mikhail Bulgakov's _The Master & Margarita _(it's not part of the SAT study guide, Scott's just reading for fun) _,_ but his eyes keep flicking up, watching Isaac lope across the field, long legs and sharp lines.

 

Allison drums her fingers on her thigh. She supposes that even though Scott is smart, smart enough to take down his enemies without the darkness spilling out, smart enough to never let himself be anyone's pawn, he's more Achilles than Odysseus. They both are, really. Sure, they've got brains, but when it comes down to it, they're the brawn. And Achilles requires a direct approach. Margarita never would make her deal with the Devil if she skirted the issue.

 

"Scott?"

 

Scott's eyes dance from the pages to the field to her. "Yeah?"

 

"Do you feel like you love two people at once?" Allison sees the pages of the book compress as Scott clutches it. His eyes are wide, and he must be able to hear her heart hammering. Scott licks his lips, chapped from running into the wind and into danger and into her arms, and clears his throat.

 

"Uh. Yeah." His voice breaks a little, and Allison smiles.

 

"Me too, you know." She leans in a little, and follows Scott's line of sight to where Isaac is getting some water. He notices them, and quirks an eyebrow. Scott blushes crimson. Allison waves.

 

Allison worries that she's not very good at communicating emotion. She's not like Scott, with his disarming smile and little displays of attention and affection. She's not sure she could sweep anyone off their feet, but she wants to try. It starts with the supply closet, locked and barricaded, with her and Isaac inside. Allison curls her fists when she realizes that _this_ is what the Aidan and Ethan had planned, that their theatrics from earlier weren't their endgame at all. When Isaac grips her wrists and _howls,_ hands shaking, chest heaving, Allison looks him in the eyes and doesn't flinch. There's a desperate look in his eyes, holding hers unsteadily, and Allison's instincts are telling her to fight back, her muscles aching to lash out, or to _run_ , but Allison stays, claws biting into her wrists until Scott arrives.

 

Isaac doesn't stop shaking, even once his claws have retracted and his eyes are human again. He runs his hands through his hair and breathes heavily through his mouth. His shoulders are up, and he flinches when Scott leans next to him.

 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-I'm _so sorry-_ "

 

Allison takes Isaac's face in both hands, running a thumb over his cheekbone. Scott takes Isaac's hand in his own and squeezes it, murmuring words of reassurance that Allison knows could never come so easily to her. Isaac looks between them, quizzically, and his breathing begins to even out. Allison is the first to stand. After all, she is the _leader._

 

Revenge is in her blood, Allison supposes. She's tried to be righteous, and it hasn't always worked. Months ago, maybe it would have been _her_ locking Isaac in a closet. After all, she knows how to be cruel. And now she's going to use that know-how for her own purposes. No one is dangling her mother's death, her _duty,_ over her cradle. Allison knows a thing or two about mistakes, number one being that it is always, always a mistake to make her _angry._

 

Scott and Isaac stare while Allison gets to work, toolkit in her purse proving to be eternally useful. They stand close, covering her and taking watch. She hands Scott the motorcycle gears and shoos him to class with a wink and a pat on the hand, Isaac's eyes burning into her back.

 

Isaac mounts the bike, arms crossed over his chest. His guard is up. Allison leans in close as she hot-wires the machine, her hands over his when she starts it, her face inches from his as she gives Isaac his instructions. The lines of his shoulders are smoother now, and he has a cocky grin on his face as he breathes her in, revving the engine and on his way to wreaking havoc.

 

Allison doesn't waste any time getting back to class, hiding her smile. There's anger churning in her gut, but she feels in control, and that's just the way she likes it.

 

Things aren't pretty, with the Alpha pack around. Isaac is staying at Scott's now, and he doesn't want to talk about it. He looks scared all the time, and Scott is anxious, his usually optimistic temperament dampened. All Allison knows it that Derek's kicked Isaac out. Not even Scott knows the ache one feels for their Alpha, the instinct to be obedient and close, but he and Allison know what it feels like to be torn. Allison knows what it feels like to feel betrayed by those closest to you, though. She had needed space, but she had always been surrounded by love and care. With Isaac she's not so sure, but the way he leans into Scott with every simple touch make Allison's hands curl into fists all over again. Not because she's jealous, she hasn't felt jealous in a while, but because it hurts that she can't _fix it._ Melissa's good about things, though, and it's a comfort. Her job keeps her busy, but she ruffles Isaac's hair like she does with Scott's and cooks filling food and teases and praises just like she does with Scott. Allison is bad at vocalizing, but whenever she catches Melissa's eye, she feels like Melissa knows. She's so instinctively maternal, and Allison remembers her own mother.

 

Sometimes, Allison feels like she's cried enough for a whole lifetime, and it makes her angry, because it's not _fair._

 

Allison and Scott move slowly, orbiting like planets. Allison would hate to rush, knowing Isaac would think if it as the two of them hooking up with him once, just to try it. Besides, Allison would rather be more sure of where she stands with Isaac. It's so easy to love Scott, she knows, and while she feels for both Scott and Isaac, she's not sure exactly what Isaac sees in her.

 

Scott has never been cryptic with her, even if it's only recently he's been better able to express himself with his words. He loves with reckless abandon and heedless optimism, and when she needs to curb him, when she needs her space, he'll back off. He's been thrown into a dangerous world without his permission, at least Isaac was _offered_ the bite, but Scott still loves and fights and balances his terrible burden, and Allison feels graced when she's with him. He burns so brightly, and she can only try to keep him from burning out. Scott once told her that she was the Moon to his Sun, holding her face in his strong, capable hands, looking at her with intensity that used to make her falter, and Allison can't resent him for being her weakness.

 

Isaac is more like her, Allison thinks. Isaac is guarded and dangerous, Isaac is angry, and Isaac doesn't trust easily. Scott feels sick at the thought of hurting anyone, even Jackson, back when the Kanima took him on a murderous rampage. Her and Isaac are different. They're not opposed to getting their hands dirty. Scott tells Allison about how back when he first met her, the look in her face when she'd brought the dog she'd accidentally hit with her car into the clinic. He tells her that she has such a big heart. He tells her about how Doctor Deaton taught Isaac to use his power to take pain away from animals at the clinic, and how Isaac had cried. Allison knows, then, that Isaac is like her, and she feels something she's not sure can be called simple happiness at the fact that Scott has both of them to look after him, to receive all of Scott's boundless love and to guard him from the things that go bump in the night with their knives and their claws.

 

It's been a long time since Allison was afraid of admitting she was in love with Scott. It wasn't easy for her, despite being surrounded by her family, and she wonders how much it hurts Isaac to think about it. It doesn't make her feel helpless, though. This she can fix.

 

She's watching _Labyrinth_ on Scott's sofa, and Isaac is hovering in the doorway.

 

"Do you wanna sit and watch with me?" Allison pats the seat cushion next to her, and Isaac stalks over immediately, folding in on himself, spine concave, as he sits. He's on the complete opposite end of the sofa, pushed up against the arm rest. Allison wonders what it would be like to be like Scott, to be able to have Isaac melt into her touch, and she tries.

 

"Key words being _with me,_ if you're alright with that." Allison holds her arms out, and Isaac looks at her with narrowed eyes. They're both quiet, full attention on each other, while the tinny sounds of the film play faraway. Isaac unravels a little, scooting across the couch cautiously. Allison wraps her arms over Isaac's chest, letting her chin rest on the top of his head as Isaac leans against her. Isaac stretches his legs across the seat cushions, feet over the edge of the armrest, and Allison feels warm. She inhales, and she smells Scott's shampoo in Isaac's hair. She feels Isaac's ears move and his jaws shift as his mouth curves into what might be a smile.

 

The movie's almost over when Allison hears the rumble of Scott's bike pull up in the driveway, back from his shift at the clinic, and she knows Isaac must hear it, too. He doesn't move, though, and Allison smooths a hand over his collarbone.

 

Scott toes off his shoes, and is halfway through shrugging off his jacket when he notices Isaac stretched across the sofa, with Allison arms wrapped around his shoulders. Scott smiles, a big grin with teeth, and Allison feels the small puff of breath from Isaac as he smirks without a hint of malice. Scott's contagious like that, Allison knows.

 

"Quit hogging the sofa, dude." Scott doesn't mean it at all, clambering over the back of the sofa and draping himself over Isaac, head on Isaac's chest and hands holding Allison's own. "Watcha watching?"

 

" _Labyrin-_ " Allison starts.

 

"David Bowie's leather pants." Isaac finishes, and Allison laughs into the crook of his neck. Isaac doesn't crack jokes too much, and most of his sense of humour that Allison's seen has always had a bite to it. Hers, too, really. It must be Scott.

 

Scott looks at them both, unabashedly, ferociously caring, like he always does.

 

Allison kisses the top of Isaac's head. "Yeah, _that's_ what I meant."

 

They lie there in a heap, and Allison ignores the weight of the world. Sometimes she wonders what her life would have been like without werewolves and hunting and so, so much death, but she can never make a complete picture. She'd be too different, she thinks. Scott kisses Isaac's strong jaw, the one Allison often admires. Scott's a real _carpe diem_ guy, and Allison can't even care about cliché when she knows how much thankless responsibility he takes on. Scott kisses and fucks and fights with so much passion, and Allison wants to share with Isaac. So Scott's trailing open-mouthed kisses up Isaac's jaw, and Isaac convulses so hard for a second that Allison's worried, but he's wrapping those arms, wrists still too skinny for his biceps, around Scott's neck and pulling him close, and Allison realizes he's just falling apart with them. Allison kisses the column of Isaac's neck, feeling his pulse jump under her lips. Scott is flush against Isaac, reaching over to smooth Allison's hair and cup her cheek. Allison leans into his touch, snaking her hands down to stroke Isaac's hipbones. They jut out to far, and don't match up with his broad shoulders. Isaac is all sharp edges and spare parts, stretched out too thin in some places and too tightly wound in others. Isaac digs his face into Scott's shoulder and breathes deeply. Allison knows that Scott smells like the forest after the rain and home cooking and engine oil and faintly like his mom's perfume. Allison leans forward, gently kissing Scott on the mouth, and wonders what Isaac can smell in the dip of Scott's shoulder. She wonders if he can smell hypoallergenic soap and blood and soil and paper from all the books, underneath everything else, and Allison wonders if love is supposed to hurt this much, if this is how other people feel.


	2. Chapter 2

Allison believes that Isaac is brave. He flinches, sometimes, when he says what he thinks. He's very quick to apologize, and he's only just learning to lie. Allison thinks him braver still, as they lie on Scott's sofa, because he is the first to speak.

 

"Is this a thing?"

 

His tone is light, but his voice is raw, and Allison can feel his heart pounding under her hands. She knows Scott must hear it, too; the heartbeat, Isaac trying to play off how he feels. Allison knows she feels like she's cried enough for a lifetime, and that Scott doesn't deserve his burden, and she wonders the extent that Isaac's suffered, before and after receiving the bite. She can see it already, Isaac smirking through his words like he's not hopeful, expecting the worst.

 

"Yes. So a thing. Definitely a thing." Scott strokes Isaac's nose with his index finger, grinning. "The Best Thing."

 

Allison hooks her chin over Isaac's shoulder, inhaling. Isaac smells different than Scott. They have the same forest smell, and Isaac's using Scott's shampoo, but Isaac smells like dusty leather and wool in the rain. "Yes. This is a thing that we're doing."

 

Isaac melts back into her chest, and this is the first time Allison hasn't felt the sharpness of the lines of his body. She likes it. He smiles, small and still a little guarded, and Allison brushes her eyelashes against his cheek. Usually she isn't adverse to people being a little afraid of her, but she wishes Isaac wasn't.

 

"Uh. That's fantastic, but I think both my legs are asleep, Scott. So."

 

Scott sits back, ankles and calves folded under him. "Can I blow you?"

 

Isaac's head jerks back, eyes wide, lips parted. Allison thinks that Isaac is _very_ kissable. "Uhm, _yes._ " His voice breaks on the affirmation, and Allison feels his cheeks growing hot.

 

Scott runs a hand through his short, dark hair, eyes down. When he looks up at Isaac through his lashes, Allison feels Isaac's sharp intake of breath against her body. Allison knows the effect Scott has when he looks demure.

 

"Alright, but I've, like, never blown a dude before." Scott's voice is hushed.

 

Isaac's jaw drops, and he makes a strangled noise. Allison can feel his blush spreading across his face, from the tips of his ears down the back of his neck. He props himself up, Elbows over her knees, and Allison kisses the back of his neck, laving her tongue over the scars there. Werewolf business, she supposes. Isaac arches his back.

 

" _You've never-_ Scott, uh, that's _really_ …" Isaac trails off, and Scott meets his eyes, smiling. Isaac twists his torso, curling up smaller, burying his face in Allison's chest. "that's really hot." He concludes, flustered.

 

Allison agrees. It felt the same when Scott was learning her body. He'd map her, smoothing his hands up her legs, kissing the insides of her thighs. He'd been very determined to learn how to kiss. Scott's always been willing to try, persistent in his practice until he really figures something _out._ It's like that with lacrosse, too, Allison knows. She hadn't been around when he'd needed to carry an inhaler with him everywhere, but she knows he'd joined the lacrosse team, anyways, working relentlessly at the game.

 

"I'll help you figure it out." Allison keeps her voice kind, running a hand down Isaac's side. Isaac unfurls at her touch, meeting Scott's eyes.

 

They scoot around the sofa, trying to accommodate each other. Allison perches on the arm of the sofa, with Isaac's back resting against her legs. She can take him all in from this angle, the expanse of his long body, his expression when Scott sucks him off. Scott rucks up Isaac's shirt, kissing his hip while Isaac tries to shimmy out of his jeans, knees bent, toes curling over the edge of the sofa.

 

Scott curls his back, trying to figure out an angle. His hands are on Isaac's bare thighs, the pads of his thumbs circling gently as he thinks.

 

"You gotta relax, Scott." Allison purrs, and Scott blushes. Her voice has always done that to him. She wonders how it makes Isaac feel.

 

"Is it like… when I eat you out?"

 

Allison thinks. "Sort of. Breathe through your nose. Use your tongue."

 

Isaac squirms, and his mouth is red and wet from kissing. Allison leans over, cupping his face in her hands, and kisses him deeply. The angle is weird, her nose bumping his chin, but Isaac is responsive, tilting his head back and spreading his long, cool fingers across her scalp.

 

She feels it when Scott starts his ministrations. Isaac gasps into her mouth, biting her lip with human teeth. Allison looks down at Scott, mouth still ghosting over Isaac's as he leans back, chest heaving.

 

It's wet and messy, Scott kneeling between Isaac's thighs, pushing his palms against Isaac's hipbones. Allison knows what Scott's hands are like; large, callused, warm. Strong and capable, bringing her back to earth after driving her over the edge. Scott's taking her advice, running his tongue up the length of Isaac's cock. Allison can feel the cogs in his head, the numbers crunching, from where she sits. He's planning, like he always is. Ahead of everyone else because it's the only thing keeping him afloat. Sometimes the fact that he feels like he needs to breaks Allison's heart. Now, though, Isaac gripping her hair while she eats up the lewd sounds crawling up his throat, unbidden, she loves it.

 

Scott sees her looking, and he smiles, eyes dark, pupils blown wide, before taking Isaac in his mouth.

 

" _Breathe_." She reminds Scott, but it's as much for him as it is for Isaac, and for her.

 

Scott inhales, his cheeks hollowing out. Isaac bucks his hips, moaning into Allison's mouth. Scott chokes a little, and Allison grips Isaac's shoulders, soothing him.

 

Scott approaches this like he does when it's Allison, trying to get his mouth right against Isaac's body, trying to bury his nose in the coarse hair of Isaac's sex and inhale his scent. Allison feels something drop inside her when she thinks about that, and she feels lightheaded and too warm.

 

Isaac's rocking his hips into Scott more gently, now, trying to control his pace, breathing shakily. Isaac kisses differently than Scott. He doesn't entirely let go, trying to stay quiet, each sound pushing its way past his vocal chords without his permission. Scott likes to kiss deep, Isaac likes to kiss hard. He's not scared of hurting her, likely a side effect of that time she stabbed him, but he's still apologetic, letting his tongue play over her bruised lips. Allison rests the tips of her fingers on his sharp jaw, and he leans into her touch. He's tuned in to her touches, Allison notices, and he lets her hands roam as she learns his body, like Scott did with her and she with him.

 

Isaac is breathing short, nudging his tongue against Allison's. She can feel him squeeze his eyes shut, his muscles tensing and coiling. Scott's hands are brushing her own over Isaac's torso, his thin t-shirt high up on his chest. She wonders if it's Scott's curious hands that do it for Isaac, like they do for her.

 

Isaac curves convex, hissing, knocking his nose against Allison's. It's abrupt, the way Isaac's muscles contract and his body contorts. Scott hums, satisfied, and Isaac is _gone,_ all his edges going soft. Scott tries to swallow, with mixed success, and Allison remembers how red Scott went the first time she took his hand and placed it on her breast.

 

Scott sloppily wipes his wet, sticky mouth with the back of his hand, resting his chin on Isaac's stomach.

 

"So, _that's_ way harder than Allison makes it look." He announces.

 

Isaac flings and arm over his eyes, groaning. "Oh my _god,_ Scott."

 

Scott grins, lips swollen, and Allison lets out a small huff of laughter in spite of herself. They readjust, again, Allison leaning against the arm rest with her legs over Scott and Isaac's laps. Scott's still hard, and still there's saliva and come on the corner of his mouth. Allison leans over, swiping it off with her thumb and licking it. She feels squirmy and warm between her legs, and Scott is looking at her with his mouth open. He's always been responsive to her arousal. Allison figures it's not just a werewolf thing, but also a testament to Scott's attitude about _everything._

 

Scott pulls Allison onto Isaac's lap, strong arms wrapping around her waist as he kisses her. Again, Allison notices the difference between Scott and Isaac's kisses; Scott pulls, Isaac pushes.

 

"I want you to know how Isaac tastes." Scott whispers against her mouth, and Isaac must hear, if his sharp intake of breath and tightened grip on Allison's hips is an indicator of _anything._

 

Scott licks his way into Allison's mouth, but it's not demanding. Even when Scott's moving fast, even back when they were stealing their time together, it was never demanding. There was a sense of urgency, sometimes, but Scott still kisses and fucks with care, like he does everything else. Allison's always needed to be sharp and strong and smart, but she's still always been pliant with Scott.

 

When Scott breaks for air, Allison leans back into Isaac, kneading her toes on Scott's thigh.

 

"So," Scott's staring at the two of them, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. "what do we do about- how do we _coordinate_ …" He gestures abstractly at his crotch, looking hopelessly confused, and Allison laughs.

 

Isaac isn't curling up on himself, with Allison moulded against him. His voice is quiet and a little bit ragged when he speaks. "Well, uhm, you seem to like… using your mouth." Isaac flushes, eyes down, voice almost a whisper, now. "So you could, like, go down on Allison. Uh. And I could… I could fuck you."

 

Allison pushes a hand through Isaac's dense curls, letting her mouth curve into a smile against his neck, just under his jaw. She watches Scott.

 

Scott tries to stammer something, but he just sits, eyes wide, open mouth in a crooked smile. "Holy shit, _yes._ "

 

Isaac meets Scott's eyes momentarily before looking down again, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I just need a few minutes. To recuperate. Uhm. You know."

 

Allison knows what Scott's eyes are like. Like the night sky reflected in two cups of black coffee. It's disgustingly poetic, but that's just how everything about Scott seems to turn out.

 

"Okay, yes, excellent, good, _alright._ A Scott McCall sandwich. I am _down_ to be in a sandwich. Now I'm hungry. Does anyone want a sandwich?" Scott eases his way off the sofa, lifting Allison's foot from his leg and kissing the inside of her ankle. He presses his lips against Isaac's forehead, too, and Allison wonders how anyone even becomes so attentive.

 

She waggles a hand in Scott's direction. "I'll have whatever you're having, you absolute goon. What about you, Isaac?" She nestles under the crook of Isaac's chin, hoping to radiate security and care like Scott can.

 

"Yeah, for sure."

 

They eat on the sofa, plates balanced on their legs while Scott talks about his shift at the clinic. Allison hopes that this is a start, that what the three of them have can flow smoothly between them. Scott _loves_ her, Allison knows, and she loves him back. She sees how Scott looks at Isaac likes he looks at her, and Isaac's instinct to always stand by Scott. It's her and Isaac she wants to work on, but she has her start, and sometimes, just sometimes, even Scott's determination pales in comparison to her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott is a princeling I will fight u
> 
> [ollies out]


	3. Chapter 3

Scott walks towards the steps leading upstairs like he isn't resisting the urge to run. Allison's always respected the control Scott has over his body, and sometimes, it has _fun_ uses. Right now, though, Scott is tripping a little on the steps, grinning goofily at Isaac and Allison behind him, and Allison is grabbing Isaac's hand, thundering up the steps with him in tow, running all the way to Scott's bedroom.

 

Allison lays on the bed, pulling Isaac down with her when he makes to sit on the edge of the mattress. She pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it absentmindedly and running her hand up Isaac's torso, spreading her fingers over his ribcage. The bones are too close to the surface, she thinks, despite the muscle rippling with Isaac's shallow breaths. Allison wonders what scars he had there, before he was turned; raised, white lines up his sides, twisting over his skin. Isaac's watching her, eyes heavy lidded, the small quirk of his lips serving as his smile. Allison guides his hands, his long, tapered fingers fumbling with the hooks of her bra. Allison's not sure if he's done this before, and she kisses him, hoping to keep his insecurities at bay.

 

Scott's still standing, leaving against the doorframe, watching her and Isaac figure each other out. His lips are slightly parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Scott is across the room in two strides, pulling off his shirt, crawling across the bed, trying to think about the logistics of it all. Allison settles back, peeling off her shirt and slipping off her bra while Scott kisses her stomach, his mouth tickling her skin, his hand palming the small of her back. Isaac sits behind Scott with his legs folded under him, eyes raking down the tan expanse of Scott's back. He licks his lips, but it's only a quick thing; tongue darting in and out, barely there. He's stealing himself another moment. Allison wriggles out of her jeans, toeing them off the bed and scooting forward, pushing Scott against Isaac's chest. Isaac seems surprised, but it doesn't show when he meets her eyes.

 

"So, does anyone know how to…?" Scott leaves the question hanging, tilting his head back to rest against Isaac's shoulder.

 

Isaac nods, running a firm hand up Scott's back, fingers mapping muscles and vertebrae. "Yeah. D'you have lube? Because if we had to go out and get it now, that would really suck." Isaac talks fast, like he's dancing around his self-consciousness.

 

Allison smiles at him, arching her back as she bends, curving like a bow. She feels Scott and Isaac's stares, and she knows what she looks like. She knows her body, it's never been an option, as a hunter. She knows the dip of her stomach, how her breasts fit in Scott's palms, how her skin stretches over the muscles of her arms and the flat plane of her sternum. Allison gropes around the drawer of Scott's bedside table, procuring a box of condoms (mostly empty) and a small bottle of lube (mostly full). She rights herself, curving herself back upright, vertebrae stacking one at a time. She doesn't want to rush this.

 

It stands to reason that Isaac knows more about guys than about girls, when it comes to bodies. Allison leans against the headboard, legs spread, knees bent. Scott looks at her, slack-jawed, and Allison _glows,_ knowing what she can do. Scott shucks his jeans and boxers and lies facing her, propped up on his elbows, idly tracing patterns on the skin of her stomach.

 

"Just, like, relax." Isaac breathes, kneeling over Scott. He liberally drizzles the lube over his fingers, biting his lip. Allison can see his hands shaking a little.

 

"You, too." She says, looking at him in a way she hopes conveys care. Scott always says she has kind eyes, but that doesn't make her any less of what she is.

 

The lines of Isaac shoulders smooth out a little, though, and his smirk isn't a leer at all.

 

There's a sharp intake of breath against Allison's inner thigh, and Scott's fingers pushing against her hips when Isaac stretches his fingers inside him. Scott looks up at her, at it's so _adoring_ , and Allison never thought it's something she could share with anyone. It's almost easier to think when he grins, hooking his thumbs into her underwear and tugging them off. 

 

Isaac's right about Scott loving to use his mouth. When Allison had told Lydia how often Scott went down on her, Lydia actually seemed _impressed._ Scott gets right up against her body, tongue dragging through her slick heat. Allison grips the back of his head, fingers in his hair. She likes how he's kept it just long enough to be held onto. He's always been attentive to her clit, and Allison would rather not think about Melissa just _now,_ but she's always been grateful that Scott's a nurse's son. She rocks into his mouth, trying to override her own screaming brain.

 

Scott can eat her out for _hours,_ rutting against the mattress while his hands scramble for purchase on her hips, her wrists, her breasts. He knows how to drive her just shy of crazy, knowing when to tease and when to give in. And he always, _always_ makes her come.

 

Scott's making all kinds of obscene noises, his breath hitching and his voice breaking when Isaac crooks his fingers.

 

" _Please._ " He gasps against her, chin dripping, fingers digging.

 

Allison knows she's never _really_ been able to deny Scott anything, and that if Isaac is as like her as she thinks, as she knows, he won't be able to, either. Isaac leans back, fumbling as he undoes his belt, hastily shoving off his jeans. Allison holds his gaze when he hastily rips open the condom packet, keeping her hands in Scott's hair gentle.

 

Scott shudders, muscles rippling down his back. "You don't have to- uh, we don't need to use the condom. You can just, like, you _know-_ " Scott mumbles, face hot against the hollow of Allison's hip.

 

"Enunciate." Allison purrs, but she loves it when Scott's shy about what he wants. It makes giving it to him even more fun.

 

Isaac's still looking at her, eyes wide like he can't believe any of it, like she's too good to be true. It's one thing to feel that way about Scott, Allison thinks- beautiful, courageous, caring Scott- but about her? It makes her fidget, and she can see Isaac's triumphant smile as she drops her eyes, cheeks burning at his intensity.

 

"You don't have to use a condom, I want to feel, _uhm_ -" Scott's voice is desperate, sharp and small. "-I wanna feel it when you come inside me." He buries his face in Allison's side.

 

Isaac moans, deep from the centre of his chest. "Jesus, _Scott._ I'll- _anything._ " It tumbles out in a rush, but Allison knows that Isaac means it. Anything for Scott. She feels just the same, and she couldn't change it if she wanted to.

 

Isaac tosses the condom, reaching for the lube. He coats his cock, mouth twisting, breathing shallow. He pushes into Scott slowly, hands braced on Scott's hip.

 

Scott tosses his head back in Allison's hands. " _Oh-_ "

 

His pupils are blown wide, his mouth is wet with her come and his own saliva, and Allison has to fight to stay tender, reminding herself that it's his first time getting fucked, that she shouldn't drag his gorgeous mouth back between her legs and _dominate him_. Scott always controls himself in bed, curbing his instincts, and she's going to do the same for him.

 

Scott's flush against the mattress, caught between pushing back into Isaac and giving into the friction of the bed. His grip on Allison's thighs is never enough to bruise, he's always so _careful,_ but the pressure is making her crave his marks on her. She snakes a hand between her legs, and Isaac _growls._

 

Isaac leans forward, and Allison wants to think about he's looking to her first, now, but she can't string her thoughts together. She kisses him, and it's human teeth, and Isaac's tongue is long like his fingers, like his legs. Scott's mouth has found it's way back to her and he kisses her fingers in apology.

 

Isaac winds his hips slow, savouring every inch of Scott's composure as he pulls half-formed pleas from Scott's mouth, gasped wet against Allison's stomach.

 

Scott's completely lost, hands fisted in the sheets, bucking his hips into Isaac. Allison's second- or is it third, she can't tell- orgasm rolls through her body in waves, and she digs her nails into Scott's shoulder blades, letting her head fall back, hitting the bed frame with a dull thud. Scott inhales her scent, pressing kisses against her labia and nuzzling the dark hair of her sex.

 

Isaac's acutely aware of her state, watching her under his lashes, and his pace stutters, losing it's rhythm. He drapes himself over Scott's back, laving his tongue over where Allison dug her nails in. There's no sign of the red half-moon imprints, there never are, but Allison loves the gesture, leaning in to kiss the top of Isaac's head. He's less diffident when it comes to Scott, and Allison understands why, but she hopes that will change with time. Isaac seeks out her mouth, and he's soft and pliant, this time, only using his teeth when he comes, choking around Allison's tongue.

 

Scott writhes at the feeling, trying to twist around trying to press his face into Isaac's chest. Allison cups Scott's head in her hands, leaning back to meet his eyes. Isaac's still in him, hands running up Scott's sides. Scott comes with a half-swallowed moan, a jumble of names, his hands tangled in the sheets, spine concave, toes curling.

 

Isaac pulls out with a hand steady on Scott's lower back, and Scott collapses into the mattress. Allison grabs him by his shoulders, hauling him up and against Isaac. Scott nestles under Isaac's chin, chest heaving. He makes to say something, but Allison cuts him off with a mouth on his soft cock, licking up Scott's come. Scott groans softly, voice raw, and Allison slides up his body, moulding her form against his. She kisses Isaac chastely, and he chases her mouth, lips curving, satisfied with Scott's taste.

 

"You guys are _killing me._ " Scott mutters, and Allison falls back into the sheets, laughing, not caring that they're damp with sweat and sticky with come, and Isaac and Scott follow.

 

Scott passes out the minute his head hits his pillow, and when Allison kisses him goodnight, Isaac grins. She makes sure to kiss him too, makes sure he knows that she's his as much as she is Scott's, as much as she is Scott's, and as much as Scott is his.

 

Allison falls asleep with her head draped over Scott's chest and Isaac's hand thrown over her waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah
> 
> WELL
> 
> edit: So the, like, bottom quarter of the chapter didn't get uploaded? ANYWAYS IT'S HERE NOW SO YOU CAN LIKE
> 
> READ THAT


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO IF ANYONE FEELS LIKE THERE HAS BEEN A WEIRD TIME LAPSE last chapter actually got cut off in the original upload, so if y'all feel like you're missing the best bits, go on back and read on.
> 
> It's been a wild ride, and you guys have all been wonderful.

The sun is high when Allison awakes, screwing her eyes up against the light from Scott's window. Isaac's side of the bed is empty, and it tugs Allison's heart in all the wrong directions until she notices that his jeans are still on the floor. Scott's still fast asleep, and Allison makes sure not to wake him as she eases her body off the bed. She grabs Isaac's jeans and belts them snugly at her hips. They're closer to her size at the waist than Scott's are, but they're all the way over the tips of her toes, and she has to cuff them. Plucking her shirt off the floor and smoothing her behead, Allison makes her way downstairs.

 

Allison stops halfway down the steps, her shirt halfway on. Isaac's in the kitchen, making coffee. He's wearing Scott's pyjama bottoms, and they only hit mid-calf. _Melissa's_ there. Isaac in Scott's pyjamas doesn't seem to throw her off, and she accepts a steaming mug from Isaac with nothing but a smile and thanks. Allison's instincts are telling her to sneak back upstairs and crawl out the window, but it doesn't feel right hiding anything from Melissa. The woman handles werewolves and the hectic Beacon Hills ER. Allison figures this is one of the less shocking things Melissa's had to deal with. So Allison pulls her shirt down over her stomach, straightens her back, and marches down the stairs.

 

 

Melissa peeks at Allison lingering in the doorway over the morning paper, her gaze flicking back and forth between her and Isaac like she's watching tennis without knowing any of the rules. Isaac's back is to them while he roots through the cabinet for a mug for himself, though Allison's sure he knows she's there. Melissa settles her eyes on her. Scott has Melissa's eyes, dark and sweet like her coffee, and she's looking at Allison with kindness. Melissa shrugs, going back to her newspaper.

 

"Get Allison a cup, won't you?"

 

Allison feels her posture relax. Isaac nods, and Allison wanders to his side, watching him pour the dark liquid into the ceramic mugs.

 

"One for sleeping beauty, too." She gently prods him in the ribs.

 

Melissa coughs a little. "As long as you three are being safe. Communication. Protection. All that."

 

Allison and Isaac nod in unison and file back upstairs, coffee in hand.

 

Scott greets them with a sleepy smile, still in bed, hair flat and sticking up on one side. "Oh, _coffee._ You're both champions. Sexy, sexy champions."

 

"So we talked to your Mom." Allison says. "Sort of. She totally knows."

 

"It went alright, I think." Isaac places the mug in Scott's blindly groping hand. "I did make her coffee."

 

"You make good coffee. You could make me do anything if you gave me coffee." Scott yawns, sitting up.

 

"He could make you do anything _without_ giving you coffee." Allison points out.

 

Scott just makes a noise of agreement as he downs the beverage. Isaac rubs the back of his neck, going red.

 

They're not always safe. Allison doesn't think staving off a mental breakdown while stitching up a lethal wound on Scott's torso in a _highway rest stop_ counts as safe. Handling explosives and military-grade weaponry doesn't count as safe. Neither does inhaling poisonous, powdered plants and fending off supernatural forces past their bedtimes. But they're safer together, Allison believes.

 

They even have quiet nights, upon occasion. Scott curled up on the sofa with his latest book, Isaac and Allison reading over his shoulders. They do their homework together.

 

Sometimes, when Scott is having Scott'n'Stiles time, Isaac's clambering through Allison's bedroom window. It's nice to have someone to share her bed with, it's so wide and empty, and Isaac is always so warm.

 

"I feel like I'm intruding, when it's just the two of them." Isaac confides into Allison's collarbone.

 

"Me, too." She confesses. At least she's always been able to have girl time with Lydia, or her Dad to talk to. She's not sure Isaac has anyone, with his pack in shreds. She would like to be there for him, though.

 

Sometimes, Scott will arrive, after he and Stiles have parted ways. Sometimes it's late at night, sometimes it's early in the morning, but Isaac's wolf always feels it. Life and training have made Allison hyperaware, and she always jerks awake when she hears her window opening. Scott settles in with them, arm draped across both of them, chest moulded against either of them. He'll stroke Allison's cheek and kiss the spot just below Isaac's ear that always makes him squirm.

 

Waking up with them, be it in her bed or Scott's, is always Allison's favourite part. They're just normal teenagers, in the morning, before they're fully awake and aware of the world that always feels like it's closing in for the kill. They're a tangle of limbs, Isaac's being the longest. Scott somehow manages to be even _more_ charming in the morning, all heavy-lidded eyes and messy hair and lazy kisses. It limits the number of dog breath jokes made, though the number isn't zero.

 

Scott learns how to fuck Isaac with tireless practice. Allison's always appreciated his stamina. It's Isaac's legs and mouth that really make Scott want it. He takes Isaac against walls, Isaac's long limbs wrapped around Scott's waist, Scott's eyes on Isaac's mouth, Isaac's eyes on Allison. Allison stays on the bed, naked and flushed, middle finger inside her while she massages her clit with her thumb and forefinger. They come when she does, feeling her orgasm bone-deep.

 

Allison doesn't spend all her time in bed, wrapped up in Scott and Isaac. Her and Lydia get brunch and take Allison's dad's car for a day in the city, some weekends. When she tells Lydia about the new turn her love life has taken, over guava juice and blueberry pancakes with lemon curd, Lydia applauds.

 

"Oh, Allison. You're a _queen._ We need to get you some real lingerie. _Immediately._ "

 

Allison pushes her food around her plate with her fork. She mostly just owns plain bras, maybe with a bow or a bit of lace. She's never bought a matching set, but since they're all mostly black, she likes how most things look together. It's not that she doesn't like girly things, it's just that she's always needed to be practical. She'd like colours, and soft fabrics, and more bows and lace. Lydia has a great eye, and has a sixth sense for great sales. Allison agrees without hesitation.

 

She ends up with all-lace boyshorts and a matching bra, in pale blue, with white ribbons, and they're so soft on her sharp figure. Sunny yellow cotton with pale pink lace trim, making her hair and eyes look even darker. Pistachio green silk that makes her skin glow.

 

Isaac raises _both_ his eyebrows. Scott walks into a door.

 

When they fuck, Isaac carefully removes her bra and panties, folding them and placing them over the back of Scott's desk chair. Isaac fucks her while Scott takes him from behind, and he wraps locks of her hair around those long fingers of his. He kisses her more gently, Allison's sure, and more slowly. He doesn't shake, except for when Scott whispers filth into his ear, eyelashes brushing Isaac's temple. Isaac leaves a hickey on the inside of her left knee, and Allison instinctively reaches for it under her school desks, under the dinner table, later. It feels like lovemaking, and Allison wants to tuck the memory away in her sock drawer, with all the combat- hazardous jewelry she can't wear.

 

Allison doesn't get coddled. She's always prepared to fight, and her boots are made for running. There's a knife and a toolkit in her purse. But it's nice, having underwear that Lydia insists are very much Sofia Coppola's _Marie Antoinette_.

 

She gets blood on the blue set. Black, sludgy blood soaking all the way through her jeans to her skin. It's not like she hasn't ruined clothes before, but this makes her so _frustrated_. She's pacing Lydia's room in a plush, borrowed nightgown, absolutely livid, and she doesn't know why. Her eyes are on the wastebasket, where she'd thrown the underwear and missed.

 

"Why can't things ever _work out-_ " Allison cuts herself off. Her voice is shrill and tight and she shouldn't be this upset over something this inconsequential. She shouldn't have a knot in her throat, and her hands shouldn't be curled into fists. She shouldn't have bought them in the first place, she should have known they'd get wrecked.

 

Lydia doesn't look at her with pity, and Allison is grateful. Lydia Martin doesn't _do_ pity. Lydia Martin has walked to hell and back in four-inch heels and a cotton-silk blend sundress. Instead, Lydia squeezes Allison's hand, and offers to paint her nails.

 

It's calming, watching Lydia's dexterous strokes with the little brush. She paints Allison's nails Tiffany blue, and when Allison is ready to talk, Lydia listens.

 

"This isn't fair." Allison says, and she hates what she sounds like. She hates that she hates what she sounds like, too, and wishes she didn't find so much synonymous with weakness.

 

"God, I know." Lydia sighs. "I mean, it's like Sunnydale here. What is it with the seriously skewed population of creatures of the night in this town? Statistically, where does this leave cities?"

 

Allison can't help but smile, even if it's wobbly and small.

 

Lydia keeps talking. "Like, spreading a bite is like spreading a disease agent. The denser the population, the easier it is. Does that explain fashion capitals of the world? All-Vampire modelling agencies?"

 

"I didn't know you watch Buffy."

 

"Well my best friend is basically the Slayer, so. You've even got the love interests down. Scott's like Angel with way less man-pain, a nicer smile, and actual hobbies. Also, unlike David Boreanaz, he looks attractive from all angles, and in all different lights. Basically, not Angel at all. But you know, the sweet one, or whatever. Isaac's more of a bad boy. He's like an All-American Spike, soft side and all. Buffy should have done what you did. Totally sorted."

 

Allison loves that about Lydia. She doesn't pigeonhole Allison's relationships or say rude or ignorant things, like that Allison's being greedy or indecisive. Lydia is a firm believer in loving whoever you want, though she'd rather die than sound so _sappy_. She has a reputation, after all.

 

"I love you, Lydia. You know that?"

 

"Obviously. Everybody loves me." Lydia always sounds a little hollow when she says that, Allison thinks, but Allison hugs her tight, hoping it really sinks in.

 

Scott teaches Isaac how to ride his dirt bike.

 

"Like, that photo Allison sent me of you on Aiden's bike was. Uhm. So. _Yeah._ "

 

"How long have you been thinking about _that_?" Isaac asks, and he's not ducking his head when he smiles, and Allison would probably be all emotional, if she wasn't _also_ thinking of Isaac on a motorcycle. It's not like that photo's her cellphone background, or anything. No way.

 

Isaac learns, with Scott tucked up against his back, chin hooked over his shoulder, hands over Isaac's on the handles. Allison instructs while Scott demonstrates. It's a short lesson, and it ends with Isaac grabbing Allison's waist, holding her up with strong arms while he takes her against a wall. He's wearing his leather jacket, which Allison insists he leaves on, which Scott wholeheartedly agrees with. Scott was carrying a condom in his wallet, not because he's presumptuous, it's just his inner health professional, he insists, though Isaac points out that Scott definitely has the right to be presumptuous, and Scott goes bright red. They don't have any lube, but Scott's content just to watch, bringing himself off with his hand.

 

"Too much dick-to-ass contact. Couldn't focus on motorcycle stuff." Scott explains, afterwards, when they're lying on the garage floor.

 

"Really, it's for the best." Isaac says, sagely. "Gotta be focused. Road safety is no joke."

 

Allison would roll her eyes at his mock-solemn tone, but she's fucked out, and it's much easier just to lie with her head against Isaac's broad chest, listening to his steady heartbeat while Scott plays with her hair.

 

There are a lot of things in her life Allison's never sure she'll be able to reconcile with herself. Her grandfather hurts to think about, but her thoughts don't leave her conflicted. She doesn't have a lot of memories of him, as a little girl, but she had trusted him. He'd brought order to her life, when Allison felt lost, and he'd made her feel like she had some degree of control over the things that made her feel weak. When she thinks about how he had been using her, giving her only the illusion of control, she feels sick. He didn't care about her. He cared about how useful she was to him, and if she'd gotten in his way, like Stiles did, he wouldn't hesitate. Allison isn't sure if he'd kill her, but he wouldn't rescue her, Allison is sure. She doesn't forgive him.

 

Aunt Kate is harder. Allison has too many fond memories of her. Aunt Kate, bringing Allison souvenirs from her travels, and telling her stories in hushed tones under blankets, the kinds her parents think she's too young to hear. Aunt Kate, when she was around long enough to babysit, letting Allison eat junk food and watch grown-up movies and stay up past her bedtime. Aunt Kate, explaining _boys,_ with funny anecdotal tales that are ripe with detail that make Allison blush. Aunt Kate, who made Allison feel powerful, who never tried to control her, who did what she did because she'd been where Allison was, and knew what it was like to feel like a small, meek thing among the monsters.

 

It's painful, thinking about the other side of Kate. Allison wonders how many of Kate's stories were about Derek Hale, when Kate talked about a love-struck boy mooning after her, and how Kate had laughed. It's not easy, when her and her dad talk about Kate.

 

"Gerard got to her." her father says, his eyes on the ground, the line of his mouth tight. Allison used to wonder why he referred to her grandfather, his own father, by his first name. "He tried to mould her in his image, like he did with you. But, I think that Kate really cared about you. She wouldn't have hurt you."

 

"How do… do you miss her?"

 

The silence stretches out between them for what feels like minutes, and Allison wonders if she should just drops it.

 

"I think," Chris measures his words. "that a very large part of the sister I loved died a long time ago. I think when she was with you, I saw something in her that I thought was long gone."

 

"I try and remember the things about her that made me love her." Allison confides. "I don't like thinking about… the other things." It makes her feel less guilty saying it out loud. "I know that I should, though. I can't pretend she was only like how I remember." Allison struggles to think about how her Aunt Kate burnt a family alive. It's hardest to think about the children.

 

"Kate did monstrous things."  her dad scrubs a hand over his face, sighing. "She needed to answer for them. But when I remember how we used to be, I know Gerard is the root of it all."

 

Allison has often wondered how her Dad has always been so level-headed, so just. "Doesn't it make you angry?"

 

"I've been angry for a long time."

 

They don't talk about her mother. The wound is still too fresh, and Allison's sure she would cry. She doesn't want her Dad to think she's dwelling on it. He worries, and Allison hates the crease of his brow and the hunch of his shoulder. She needs him to be her rock, like he always has.

 

Sometimes, Scott is unaccounted for. He'll vanish into the night, and Isaac will have a haunted look in his eyes, like he'd being left, like it isn't the first time. He doesn't joke, then, and his posture will stoop. Sometimes, Allison tries to talk, to fill in the void in Isaac's chest, but mostly, she just holds him, head pillowed against his chest. They lie in Scott's bed, breathing in his scent and waiting. Allison hates waiting.

 

"It's not fair." Allison whispers, and she hates how she sounds like a bratty, broken record. "He never asked for the bite."

 

Isaac is silent and still. Allison imagines him snorting at her. Of course the world isn't fair, don't you already know that?

 

Allison continues. "We weren't even close, when it all started. He hid it. He lied about things. But he never did it to abuse my trust. He was just scared. He was _fifteen._ "

 

"I trust him, too." Isaac says, finally, and it's so quiet Allison almost misses it.

 

She hesitates. "Do you love him?"

 

Isaac doesn't reply, and Allison touches his cheek. He doesn't look at her.

 

"Because he loves you, you know."

 

There's a jut to Isaac's jaw, and a curl to his hands on Allison's waist. "I don't deserve that."

 

"Well, neither do I. Good thing the world isn't fair, I guess."

 

Isaac smiles at that, sardonic and small.

 

"Isaac?"

 

"Hm?"

 

"I love you, too."

 

" _Don't._ " He's warning her, blunt nails digging into her sides, eyes not meeting hers.

 

Allison sits up, bracketing Isaac's head between her arms. He flinches, and she sits back. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

 

"Just… don't, alright? Don't say things you don't mean." Isaac sounds world weary, and the lines of his body are all rigid, all again.

 

"I _do_ mean it. I love you." Allison grabs Isaac's hands. "I love your sense of humour, and how you chew with your mouth open. I love how you braid bits of my hair when we watch movies. I love how you're a fighter. I love your jawline, and how your hair looks all flat when you sleep on it. I love you in your leather jacket, and your sweaters, and Scott's pyjamas. I love how much you joke with Melissa. I love your smile. Don't tell me I don't mean it."

 

Sometimes, Allison hates herself for being lovestruck, when where they are couldn't be further from the time and the place, but Isaac's looking her in the eyes now, and his fingers aren't slack under her hands anymore. He groans, pulling her back against him. He doesn't say anything, but he strokes her hair until she falls asleep.

 

When Scott comes back, sneaking, even though Melissa's out, and Allison and Isaac can always hear him, his skin is smooth, but his shirt is ripped, and sticky and stiff with drying blood. He doesn't offer an explanation, just strips and slips under the covers. It's an old argument of theirs, Allison knows; Scott trying to fix things alone. It's not that he can't, and Allison knows she would hate it more than anything if he doubted her like she seems to be doubting him, but she isn't doubting him, and Scott doesn't do resentment. He thinks he needs to look after everything himself as much as he can, keeping everyone safe, and Allison supposes she's the same. Isaac doesn't trust easily, but he doesn't like solitude. Unlike Scott, the bite left him with a pack mentality. It's Allison's lack of trust that makes her want to work alone. It's Scott's fucking nobility that pushes him in that direction. And yet, he's usually fine with accepting help. Maybe it's just her, Allison thinks. Scott doesn't suffocate or coddle, but he likes to keep those he loves out of the firing line. When he explains, Allison points out that she _is_ the firing line, and they reach their old impasse. Isaac's new to their equation though, an as yet unidentified variable, as Lydia would say. Allison wonders if things will be different.

 

They're awake, the three of them; hidden under the covers, silent except for their breathing, muffled by pillows and the duvet. Scott's body is cold from the night air, and he's nudging his nose under Isaac's jaw, pressing against Isaac's other side.

 

"Hey." Scott says, voice thick with exhaustion, cold hand tucking itself in the crook of Allison's waist, and already, she can't feel angry. Scott's her blind spot, always has been, but she has Isaac at her back, now. They're both a little morally grey, a little underhanded, when they need to be. Allison's the firing line, and her reasoning hasn't always been clear, hasn't always been her own, but she's still a soldier _and_ a leader. Sometimes, she wants to be the princess, even if more often than not, she's found herself the dragon. _I don't need rescuing_ sounds hollow to her, just because it's always rung so true from the start. She doesn't need rescuing, but sometimes she needs help. And she has it.

 

"Hey, yourself. Your nose is a goddamn iceberg." Isaac says, and he doesn't mean a word of it.

 

"You love it, dude."

 

"I love you." Isaac blurts, the simple phrase shoving its way through his teeth, prying his mouth apart. 

 

Allison can feel Isaac's body recoil, like he's a loaded gun speaking in bullets. She stays exactly where she lies, listening to Isaac's erratic heartbeat, and she knows Isaac knows he could never play this off, never push it aside with a smirk. He plays his cards to close to his chest, usually; hunched over, inventing tells to keep the world at arm's length. But Allison can hear his body betray him, and she knows Scott can, too.

 

Scott follows the lines of Isaac's frame when he flinches, their respective instincts playing into each other.

 

"You should definitely know I love you. Because I totally do, man. But not in like an 'I love you, man' way. I mean, I do. But also in like an _I love you_ way. Fireworks behind my eyes when we make out, and stuff."

 

"You're such a _dork._ " Allison props her head up on her hand, rolling her eyes at Scott from the other side of Isaac. "You are actually just a parody of yourself."

 

Scott laughs, grabbing her wrist and kissing it. "Love you, too."

 

"Oh, Christ. Are we going through, like, rounds of 'I-love-yous'?" Isaac groans, flopping his head back. "Because I will actually fling myself out the window from embarrassment."

 

"I think I like you just _fine_ here." Scott tugs the blanket down to their necks, draping himself further over Isaac's chest, fingers tracing Allison's shoulders.

 

They're all flushed from the sudden fresh air, out from under the covers, and parodies and clichés aside, Allison's heart is ready to burst. Explode into sugary, pink bubbles, or some shit. They've never been in control of the pace, how the world spins in their strange town. But Allison knows the three of them are lovers as much as they are fighters, and loyal to a fault. Things are never fair, Allison knows. They have miles to walk before they sleep, and all that. And when they do sleep, it's with boots by their bed, claws just under their skin, and knives taped behind the headboard. Things are never fair, Allison knows, but with the three of them seamless, that rule applies more to the opposition than anyone else.

 

She sleeps, and her blood runs hot, her mind sharp just under the lull of the night, but she knows she is not alone.

**Author's Note:**

> who let me juggle three fics at once? already, you feel the hilarity.
> 
> This isn't going anywhere, plot-wise. Revelations and character development and icky-sticky feelings, at most. The rating will go up, so stick around to see me bungle my way through writing a threesome.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Drop Dead Sprint by CaptainKoirk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/932667) by [sallysparrow017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallysparrow017/pseuds/sallysparrow017)




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